


Daa Fei Gei

by yamiskoi



Series: Temptation [2]
Category: Xī yóu jì | Journey to the West - Wú Cheng'en
Genre: Blow Jobs, Breaking Celibacy Vows, First Time Blow Jobs, M/M, Oral Sex, Public Blow Jobs, Sun Wukong is GAY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-02
Updated: 2019-08-02
Packaged: 2020-07-29 07:16:51
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20078284
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yamiskoi/pseuds/yamiskoi
Summary: Wukong has been doing a lot of thinking, and Sanzang has noticed. He confronts his disciple to see what's wrong.





	Daa Fei Gei

**Author's Note:**

> I had a dream a few nights ago and I figured it was the universe telling me that there needs to be more Wukong/Sanzang porn out there. So, here it is. Hope you all enjoy, please leave kudos and a comment, it all really makes my day. 
> 
> Title will probably change as I can't remember the Jyutping for blow job, so this will act as a placeholder until I remember or think or something better.

It had been a few days since the kiss, and Thunder Peak loomed ever closer. Wukong had decided it was better to act as his usual careless, carefree, uncaring self around his master, because that’s exactly how everyone expected him to behave, and he wasn’t one to disappoint his loyal subjects.

Truthfully, the kiss he’d shared with Sanzang had been short but sweet, and he found himself indulging in idle fantasies. They were innocent enough to begin with, but they led down a path he knew the devout master would never tread. And Wukong was not used to not getting what he wanted, so he was snappier, shorter and grumpier than he perhaps ought to have been with his fellow disciples.

If Sanzang noticed, he didn’t say anything, until they were two days away from their ascent of the Thunder Peak. Wukong had been resting, relaxing, trying to focus on something other than his master’s lips, when he heard the monk’s quiet approach. He cracked open an eye, resisted groaning frustratedly, and sighed. He was in his typical position for the night– his back against a tree trunk, facing away from the camp, keeping an eye out for little junior devils scouting for their group, or a spirit escaped from Heaven bent on gaining immortality, or worse.

Sanzang tentatively approached his elder disciple, praying that Friar Sand and Pig were fast asleep. “Wukong,” he said softly, quietly.

Wukong closed his eye again. “It’s a good thing I have excellent hearing, master. I wouldn’t be able to hear you otherwise.”

Sanzang gathered his robes around himself, settling on the ground before Wukong’s feet. The Monkey King said nothing, and this time the silence was uncomfortable. He hated that. He liked knowing that he was closer to the master than the others, that they had been together longer, that he was the one Sanzang relied on most of all. He had always been good at taking care of others, and that’s why he’d become the Handsome Monkey King of the Mountain of Flowers and Fruit. A little of his usual confidence was creeping back, and his fur puffed in pride.

“You haven’t been your usual self,” Sanzang said, just a little louder. Wukong opened his eyes and sighed.

“I’m fine, master.”

Sanzang hesitated, and they both knew he was lying.

“You have a good heart, and your intention is pure. But you must speak well, too. Lying is not 'speaking well' and generates suffering.”

Wukong waved a hand. “Spare me the lecture. I’m fine, really.” He turned to face Sanzang then, smiling.

Sanzang looked up at him. His inner conflict was clear. He was unhappy that his disciple was choosing to be dismissive and elusive with him, dodging questions and withholding the truth. But Wukong knew the teachings well enough by this point, and if he was choosing to follow them poorly, or to flout them altogether, then Sanzang could not change his ways; not with so little left of their journey, of their time together. And the monk needed them to make the most of the time they did have before their inevitable parting.

In the end, Sanzang returned the smile, and said, “Okay. That’s fine.”

Wukong said nothing more. Silence again fell between them. Cicadas, with their strange buzzing, could be heard somewhere in the forest. The odd rodent scurried its way through the undergrowth. Bats flitted from tree to tree, searching for fruit. It was a peaceful night.

“Wukong,” Sanzang said, and the Monkey King snapped his gaze back to face his master in obedience. The monk hesitated, glancing at the hands clasped in his lap. He was a portrait of modesty.

“I...” Sanzang kept his eyes downward, as if in shame, “... I've been having thoughts. I remember things I saw many years ago, back at the temple when I was just a junior monk. I saw...” Sanzang hesitated again, breathing deeply as his religion had taught him to do, and the motion calmed him enough to whisper, as if confessing, “... the boys would miss girls, you see. They would sometimes put their mouths... _there_.” Sanzang said, pointedly, and Wukong was certain the monk's cheeks were as flushed as the peaches he craved.

“I see,” Wukong said simply. He pretended not to notice the other man's embarrassment. His heart was pounding in anticipation, but he ignored it. If anything new was to happen, it had to be on the monk's terms. He couldn't be the one responsible for ruining this endeavour, not after he'd sacrificed so much to get them all to Thunder Peak in one-piece time after time again.

“I...” Sanzang bit his lip, and finally looked up at his disciple. His cheeks were still red, but a look of determination was in his eyes.

“I... could... could we try?” he asked.

There was no moonlight this night to illuminate Wukong’s features, but his eyes lit up. This had been something else he’d enjoyed long ago but hadn’t the heart to say the other night during the disciples’ silly little game. He hadn’t wanted to be so crass, so lewd – but Sanzang had been having some thoughts of his own, and they too were not innocent.

“You are sure?” Wukong asked, hoping so intensely that Sanzang wasn’t trying to deceive him, to choose now to mutter the words of the band-tightening spell, to teach him about restraint, about monk-like celibacy-

“I am sure.” Sanzang whispered, and relief flooded Wukong’s troubled spirit. “Please,” the monk added, and Wukong laughed quietly to himself.

“Anytime, master,” he said, as he had several nights before. He crawled over to where Sanzang was sitting, and gently urged him to stand. The Handsome Monkey King he may be, but the thought of being humbled by kneeling was secretly delightful. Another shiver of anticipation went through him as he saw Sanzang stumble to his feet, and he reached up through layers of robes to finally, slowly grasp the monk’s prick in his hands.

Immediately Sanzang’s hands flew to his mouth, capturing his surprised gasp. Wukong was grinning so hard it felt like his face would stick that way forever. He pressed a light kiss to the head of Sanzang’s cock. The monk whimpered, and Wukong repeated the action. His lips lingered, sucking just slightly as he withdrew, checking his master’s face. Sanzang was flushed bright red, staring down at him. Wukong grinned and took the head into his mouth for a longer, wetter kiss, and the monk moaned.

Wukong let the cock fall from his mouth, now almost fully erect. “Stuff the robe in your mouth to keep quiet,” he murmured, lips inches away from where they so desperately wanted to be. Sanzang nodded, following the monkey’s orders.

With that, Wukong moved back in to take Sanzang into his mouth properly. His lips stretched around the cock, slick with moisture so they could glide down with ease. His snout bumped against Sanzang’s body, and he adjusted to the feel and weight of his master’s cock in his mouth. His sensitive hearing could still tell that Sanzang was gasping, little hitches of breath escaping, but the cassock helped to muffle the sounds just enough to keep their sin out of sight to the rest of their party.

Wukong kept working his mouth, sucking and licking. Occasionally he drew back to press kisses to the head, and Sanzang would bring an insistent hand to the back of his neck, forcing him back down. He swallowed around his master’s cock, proud when he could taste precum. He knew it wouldn’t take long, what with the master’s inexperience.

Just as he was about to really start losing himself in the blow job, Sanzang pushed Wukong hard enough to push him off his cock. The Monkey King froze, mouth still slightly open and filled with the monk’s taste.

“Please, Wukong, I… I want to try,” Sanzang whispered, his voice hoarse.

Wukong’s eyes lit up, and not for the first time. His cock twitched in response. “Are you sure, Master?” he asked, trying to ignore the screaming in his mind that demanded to know why he was choosing now to be chivalrous. It had been too long. But he needed to be sure – this probably constituted a transgression.

Sanzang tugged on Wukong’s clothes, sinking to his knees. “Please,” he whispered again, and took Wukong’s lips in a kiss. It was surprising but Wukong allowed it, gripping the monk’s shoulders to keep him steady on his knees, which were shaking.

“Alright, Master,” Wukong panted as they parted, cock practically begging to be let out and sucked dry, “if you’re sure.”

Sanzang pushed his disciple to his feet, and with surprisingly deft hands pushed Wukong’s clothes aside and revealed his weeping cock. Wukong bit his lip, trying to sear the image of Sanzang on his knees before him into his mind. Gone was the tentativeness of their first kiss, gone was any notion of shame or fear of sinning. Like before, Sanzang moistened his lips with his tongue, and Wukong groaned. Then with a deep breath, he began leaning forward, lips mere inches away from his cock-

“Brother. Get UP!” Wukong blinked, stunned, as a foot shoved him in the ribs, hard. His eyes flew open and it was the morning, and Pig was standing over him, hands on his hips.

“Wakey-wakey,” the idiot sang, a massive grin on his face. Clearly he was happy with his little stunt.

Wukong glared at the Pig with eyes as bright as the furnace that he had survived in Heaven.

“If you don’t leave me in the next five seconds,” the macaque growled, teeth gritted and fangs bared, “I will turn you into char siu and leave you as an offering for the local deities.” Pig wasted no time in scurrying away, knowing but not understanding why exactly his elder brother was so angry with him.

Wukong sighed, rubbing his eyes. It had all been a dream, because of course it had. A monk would never allow someone to suck their dick. And a monk would certainly not want to return the favour, least of all to a wicked ape. He wanted to scream, pound something into oblivion using his fists or the cudgel. He glanced over at Friar Sand, who had already dished out breakfast for them. He threw his arm across his eyes, scowling at the Heavens for being so unfair.

“Good morning, Wukong!” Sanzang said, calling across the camp. Wukong peered at his master through the gaps between his fingers. He was his usual smiley self, and nothing had changed from the night before – just Wukong’s wicked mind and fantasies that had taken a meaningless kiss and turned it into something more than it was, more than it ever could be.

With another sigh, Wukong left the comfort of his bed and went to have his breakfast.


End file.
